I'll Keep You Safe
by TrumpetBeast
Summary: A few one shots of rewritten John and Henri scenes:moving into the house, John's rebellion against Henri in the kitchen, John's first legacy, and the scene  where Henri... won't spoil it . Maybe a little AU, new scenes at the end. Based on the movie.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a rewrite of a few scenes from I Am Number Four. (Remember John shutting the poster over Henri's face?) Based on the movie; it's been awhile, and Wikipedia. I hope you enjoy.

1- Arriving at the house

I DO NOT OWN "I AM NUMBER FOUR"

Henri's POV

We arrived that afternoon, weary and stiff from the long car ride. He had been leaning back in his seat, his eyes closed. I knew well enough that he wasn't asleep and I knew that when he was like that it wasn't good to disturb him. At the very least I could be thankful that he didn't get carsick. Or mess with the radio, or wet the bed, or any of the million other things that could have gone wrong. He was a good kid and I was happy. But I knew that there would be tough times ahead. Every kid had a breaking point, and Daniel was no exception. I relished the good times and prepared for the hard ones ahead.

The house was no looker as it was old and worn. I missed the last one. There were sheets of raining pouring down into the worn dirt driveway, making a big lake of mud. I pulled the car in. Daniel was going to love this spot, after our last spoiled retreat beside the ocean with a hot babe on every towel. But he'd seen the consequences on that fateful night on the beach. This was conspicuous and besides, I had business here.

Daniel groaned and stretched, jumping out of the car. He grabbed some bags and hurried inside the house. I shut the trunk and followed.

"Next time I pick the house," he said, checking out the narrow halls and cramped rooms.

"Sure," I said, dumping some stuff. The place was a little creepy and I almost called out to stop him from going up the stairs. That would have gone down well. Teenagers": WARNING-volatile and spastic. Unpredictable. Stupid. And just plain weird on occasion. I settled for turning on some lights and setting the briefcases of equipment down in the kitchen. The bay window would work for surveillance.

Finished, I grabbed a glass from the kitchen and filled it from the tap. Taking a swig, I swished it around in my mouth. It was musty and tasted like cheap silverware that hasn't been washed in a while. The pipes were probably old, but I could taste poison and this water was safe. I gargled loudly and swallowed, finishing the glass. Coming from Lorien it's hard to forget how important water is. Watching the shower run, or a sprinkler, my breath catches in my chest. At first I could spend hours just watching the rain. Now we don't time for that. Daniel's growing up, and the Mogadorians get closer every day. I'm afraid for what's to come. Number 3 is gone and we aren't safe anymore.

I set the glass down and kicked my shoes off. Picking them up I trudged upstairs with my bag. The upstairs was typical for an old house- a dingy, narrow bathroom, a shallow linen closet, master bedroom, and two cramped back bedrooms looking out behind the house. Daniel had claimed one, and I stepped into the other, peeking through a hole in the plaster at him. He was leaning over the bed, and when he saw me he gave a drastic sigh and shoved a poster over the gap. I ignored the gesture and sat on the bare mattress. There was a long dresser crammed against the bed and a wall of baseball cards. Whoever had lived here before must have been in a rush to leave. I gazed out at a tree.

We went to bed early that night. Daniel was closeted in his little annex, with a chair under the door. I didn't like that but he needed a little time to himself and there was no helping it short of forcing him. Instead I retired to the kitchen to set up the monitors and electronics that served as surveillance. There wasn't any food in the house, but I made Top Ramen on the little gas stove and ate at the table. I thought about calling Danny to eat, but I figured he wouldn't. He never has an appetite for the first while in a new place.

I took my laptop to bed. I showered in the yellow bathroom and coaxed Daniel to take the chair away and say goodnight.

"You're sulking you know," I said mildly, flipping on the lamp and sitting on the bed.

"Brooding." He muttered.

"What?"

"-You heard me, b****d."

"Sure, sure. You could've made my bed for me."

"Coulda." What manners he had, what nerve.

"Well, Sunny D, I guess I'll go, since you want me gone so bad."

"Yes!" He muttered, shifting and pulling his head out of the pillow.

I reached over and patted his head.

"Good night kiddo. See ya in the morning"

"'Night Henri," he whispered.

I turned away, shutting the door behind me. He can't sleep without the door shut, because of fear that someone will come in. I can't sleep with mine closed, knowing that something could happen to him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2-One Legacy

I DON"T OWN "I AM NUMBER FOUR".

Henri's POV

I was sipping a cup of lukewarm coffee and leaning against the counter. My socked feet were practically frozen to the floor. Usually I don't get cold. Maybe John had something right when he said I should turn the heat up. But our heating bill would be like a thousand dollars once that started, because he won't ever take his sweat shirt off unless it's over 90. I chuckled and traced a pattern on the coarse fridge door.

Just then Bernie let out a yell like the demons were after him. I had a good feeling about the dog, even though John thought he was just a helpless stray. I looked over at him, whimpering and barking, and wagging and wiggling hard like he had to pee or something. He moved towards the back of the house.

I wasn't one to talk to dogs, so I just followed. He reached the closet and snuffled an abandoned grey hoodie on the floor-John's.

It was a blur from there. Dropping the coffee cup on the floor by the stairs, where it shattered into a million pieces. Grabbing the jacket, opening the door, flying out the door on the wings of devils. Leaping into the unlocked car, starting it without a key, and driving as fast as I could to the town high school. I wouldn't have bothered with the hot wheels except that I knew I would need it to take him home.

I reached the school and busted through a side door, shutting off the alarm that went off almost instantly. From there I ran through the halls, feeling his energy, until I reached the janitors closet. Within there was a muffled banging and yelling. I flung it open and leaped inside, shutting the door behind me.

He was flailing around and totally freaked out. Pain emanated from his body like music from a stereo.

"John." I said. "John!"

He looked at me, which was a start.

"Its okay, breathe, c'mon, take a big breath." He continued to hyperventilate. If he fainted, he'd be out for a long time.

"Breathe! In, out, in, out… you can do it, c'mon, just breathe man," I reached for him just as he grimaced and fell to a kneel on the floor. Crouching beside him, I grabbed his shoulder to steady him. He was tiring, and he needed to work for it to go away.

"Danny," I whispered, watching his face. "Relax. Just relax and breathe, it'll go away. Relax and breathe. The pain will go." I gently touched his back.

He gasped and his face strained with the stress of the pain. His pale head fell back and he brought his hands, curled into claws, up.

"HENRI!" He screamed in agony, before collapsing back into my arms unconscious.

It was a trick getting him out of there. Most of the school had heard his scream and there were three teachers down our hallway alone. I had had to press my palms to his, which was dangerous, but it eased a little of the power from his limp body. I tenderly cradled him in my arms, easing us out into the hallway. From there, I thought to run for the exit, but he moaned at just the jolt of walking slowly. Instead, I shuffled out the door, trusting that we would not be seen.

Back in the car, I laid him in the front and adjusted the seat all the way back, buckling him in. His breath was ragged and quick. I drove as fast as I could with him all the way home, and carried him upstairs, laying him in the bed. He was weak and pale, but I knew that I could not take anymore energy, not even for my guard. It would kill me, and he was not prepared to be alone yet. So I spent the afternoon quieting his hoarse calls and wiping his hot brow. He squirmed in the wraths of the fever, weak and delirious.

That night I tried to get him to drink, but he threw up until there it seemed there could be nothing in his thin body. He looked small in the dark room, the sheets tangled around his narrow frame, hair stuck down to his scalp with sweat, eyes closed.

Only at five in the morning did the sickness pass, and he fell into a deep sleep. I put Bernie under the covers with him and crept downstairs. The monitors were freaking out. Images of him were everywhere-pictures by that stalker girl in his English class, surveillance of him running off, of us. It took my three hours to get everything I found off the web. I should never have let him go to school. If this had happened at home I would have been right there and we could have stopped it before it had hardly started.

He came down at half past eleven freshly showered and dressed.

"Hey." He said, leaning against the door frame. I turned around in my chair, and smiled, standing up.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah." He looked like c**p to be honest, but it could have been worse. He might not have woken up.

He edged further into the room and fell into a chair at the table. I walked over and sat beside him, observing him closely. He was slumped onto one hand, tapping a trembling finger on the table.

"Will it happen again?" he asked.

"Yes." He nodded. "It won't be so bad next time. I can show you how to make it better." He frowned, still staring at the table and avoiding my eyes.

"I can't go back can I… there must rumors and stuff, I guess." He groaned, and squeezed his eyes shut. But Danny couldn't fool me-it wasn't that, he wanted to go back.

"We'll see." I said softly, cautiously running a hand through his hair. Instead of fighting it, Daniel moved to lean against me.

"I love you Henri," he whispered, nuzzling into my shoulder. His head drooped and I felt him fall asleep.

I love you too, Danny Boy.

Note: Number 4 has a lot of names:

Daniel-there is a reference to that being one of his previous names

Danny, Danny Boy, Sunny D, etc. - Nicknames I thought Henri might call him

John or John Smith- The name that Henri made up for him when they moved to Paradise

Just though it might help to clarify, since I've used at least five names already.


	3. Chapter 3

2-John's Rebellion

Number 4 always wondered why Henri hated the radio. Pretty AU Songs is "Everyday Will be a Holiday" by William Bell. I don't own it or "I Am Number Four".

Henri's POV

The storm broke.

"I'm leaving," he hollered, busting out the door. No need to yell _John_, I'm right here, I though dryly.

"One day to say goodbye? Great," he jeered. Did he really love that chick? I hoped not. We only love once, and she'd never stand up to this life. I winced.

"More than the rest of us had!" I muttered. I reached out towards him, and his eyes got huge. This was the breaking point. He freaked. A huge chunk of wood flew towards me. I could have seen it coming anytime, but never from him. I stood surprised and it busted right into my left temple, sending my flying. I saw stars, bright and glinting, and the world spun.

When I regained my head and my composure, he was gone. Still mad and likely going very fast. I got up slowly, for my head, a little dizzy, and power walked into the house. Dorky, yeah, but also necessary. I grabbed everything I could think of, since we might not be back. Shirts and jeans for both of us, socks and shoes, toothbrushes and such vanity things from the bathroom. The emergency kit, some food, some junk from John's room along with his sweatshirts. Bernie and his leash, the surveillance stuff. It took about thirty minutes to pack the van while rushing. It was sloppy but it would do. Since it was almost five o'clock he had a good hour's head start, but I knew I could catch him. Something about his energy, I know it so well.

We left, screeching out of the gravel driveway and onto the street. He'd gone north, so I went to a secondary highway. The rain started, from those dark clouds, and I started the windshield wipers. The car was too quiet without the customary sighs and complaints, and with the agony of worry throbbing in my head. So I did something so uncharacteristic John would have choked to death if he'd been there. I turned ominous little knob to start the radio, not loud, but still. Usually it was my car and I didn't want distractions.

"Everyday will be like a holiday

When my baby, my baby comes home.

I'll never have to worry about sitting by the phone

When my baby, my baby comes home.

I'll never have to be alone,

When my baby, my sweet baby comes home.

I know when she get's here, she'll never go away,

And Everyday will be like a holiday."

I drove for a long time, biting my nails scanning for any sign. I didn't find him.

I did find someone else, though. A kid, slim and shorter than John, soaked to the bone and walking slowly and wearily. I had a weird feeling in my gut, maybe from the music. Pulling over, I rolled down a window.

"Hey kid. I'll give you a ride." He looked up, obviously surprised, and seemed to size me up. He looked at my car. "Your John's dad, aren't you?"

I froze, gave him the once over. It was a small town-I'd dropped John off at school a few times. We were the talk of Paradise, with out weird ways. I knew I went over the top, sometimes, trying to hide, and it just made us more obvious.

He was soaked to the bone, like an alley cat with his dark bangs falling over his forehead and drops of water dripping off his nose. I walked around, swinging the keys.

"Yeah, you know him?" I got in the car, and he pulled open the passenger door and crept in, slamming it and leaning back in the seat and running a hand through his wet hair.

"Um-hm." He waited, and then gave me a funny look when I didn't start the car.

"Seatbelt," I said severely, raising my eyebrows. He reluctantly clipped in, and I turned the key in the ignition. The radio blasted, scaring me out of my wits, and it was a love song. I jammed it off. We were both embarrassed, and he turned to gaze out at the window.

"So, you're one of John's buddies. What's your name?"

"Sam."

"What were you doing?" I could think of any reason to walk in the rain, all the way out here. He didn't answer, but traced with his finger on the fogged over window. I bit my tongue. John did that.

"You don't know where he is, then?" The kid said softly. Whoa, my brain hollered at me. I pulled over, fast, and grabbed her shirt cuff.

"What do you know, _Sam_? Come on, speak up." He paled, but turned to look my in the eye.

"I know that John isn't from here." My blood went cold. "I know that he left my garage at two o'clock this afternoon, blubbering about killing his father." He gestured at the goose egg that composed my forehead. "And I had the feeling he was going to do something crazy, so after he drove away in my truck I followed him." I stared at him, and then blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"And that doesn't bug you?" He met my gaze, then turned away again, serious, and drew his hand to the glass again. He didn't speak at first, and when he did, it was soft.

"John's okay, ya." Something in my chest clenched, possibly my heart. This kid liked John. I adopted an appreciation for Sam, right then and there. I started the car, and he turned on the radio, really loud.

We reached the shabby house forty minutes later from a muddy side road, filled with potholes. Sam reached to get out of the car, urgent. Wait, I called, getting out first.

"You know how to shoot?"

"Yeah." He was lying at least a little. I gave him one anyway, as a last resort, but told him so. We had a plan, after shouting over the rock and roll.

He snuck around the back. I didn't like separating, but I couldn't let him follow me in.

The door squeaked when I opened it. The office inside was lined with articles, tracking every suspicious incident. There was to much junk-it bothered me. I snuck down the stairs wearily, a heavy revolver clenched tight in my fingers with the hands off. I forced the basement door.

They were sitting in a back room of the basement, playing cards. I saw John strung up from the rafters, by his hands luckily, not his neck. He looked pretty beat up, and I bet that hurt like heck hanging that way. There was a small window in the back. Creeping over to him, I raised my gun to aim at the shackles. I raised my hand hardily in signal.

For a second there was nothing. Oh God, I thought, he must have an implant. John would have known better than to tell him everything-it was a trap. _His _life flashed before my eyes, his first scar, his third move, his fifth birthday. Marching two by two down the alleyway of despair. Then I heard a commotion in the room over, and I knew he'd done more than I asked.

I shot John down, grabbing him as he fell and crumpled down towards the cement floor. He had a bloody lip and two shiners, which he fixed me with, struggling for footing. Then he pushed off of me, running for the door on shaky legs.

"Get Sam," he hollered, running up the stairs. I turned and cocked my gun, gritting my teeth and flinging open the door. Sam was lying prone on the desk, unconscious. They were standing over him, grinning maliciously at me with scarred faces. I shot one in the face. I shot the other one, missed, and backed against the wall. He honed in one me, an ugly sneer on his face. I shoved my gun towards him while reaching my leg up to knee him. He just shoved the front of my gun down, forcing my finger on the trigger and laughing when it shot him in the chest. Blood spurted out, and he smiled. I was done for.

But then there was a terrible knocking and banging outside, and the glass window shattered in along with a rock. For a moment the ugly Mog was diverted, and I drove my glowing foot into his gut with a squelch, firing right through his forehead. He screamed, and I grabbed Sam out from the other one's body, soaked in the beast's blood. I jumped through the empty window and up onto ground level, throwing myself into the open door of the car, parked right there. Before we were all the way in the car revved and took off.

I righted Sam in the middle seat and pulled myself all the way in, shutting the door. Daniel was driving, a grim look of determination on his face.

I looked at him, feeling at little mad, but half crazed. He stared back at me, bruised eyes wide, his cheeks flushed.

Sam sat up from his slump on the middle seat.

"That was awesome."

We laughed our butts off. We couldn't help it.


End file.
